A Storm-Swept Night
by Supernova1219
Summary: Clementine needs comfort in the dead of a cold and stormy night, from the only man she thinks can provide it.


**Hey there reader! This is a second story of mine in which i decided that instead of the raiders driving them out only three months after they move in, they are able to stay there for a much longer period of time. This is about 7 months into the apocalypse.**

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"L...Lee...?...Hey...please...I'm sc…"

My nightmare about my old life suddenly snapped to a close as I was pulled back to reality. The dream was...as always...about my ex-wife. I could've sworn it was the real world too, but of course, that's too..well, not good...but normal, to be true. Predictably, I was pretty groggy as I woke up, so I decided to take things slowly seeing as I wasn't too worried about what awoke me. We're inside of a reinforced Inn, blocked with cars and dumpsters piled high from all around the place. Nothing is coming through those gates, and besides, the storm that Kenny said was on the way arrived right on time. Since those things are attracted to noise, you'd figure they would get all sorts of confused by a thunderstorm, right? Well, luckily enough, that turned out to be the case as we hadn't seen a thing (well, besides a single walker slamming itself into a tree over and over in the direction of some lightning that had struck miles off, which we took as a cue that our theory was correct.)

With all the chores for the day sorted, each family moved off to their respective rooms. Katjaa, Kenny and their son Duck a few doors down from us, Lilly down on the first floor, Carley on the other side of the lot, Ben next door to her, and finally Clem and I's room. I guess I must have subconsciously chosen this room, seeing as this is the one farthest from where that girl was staying. The balcony where she...well...that's in the past. I've got more important things to attend to right now anyway.

More specifically, a terrified little girl shivering by my bedside.

Once my eyes fully adapted to the dim light of the lamp by my bedside, (which we were lucky enough to find after Kenny managed to fix the generator for the place.), I was able to see her more clearly. She had moistened eyes, which immediately got me worried. This, coupled with how much she's visibly shaking, pretty much forced me into a sitting position. I decided it was finally time to see what was wrong.

"What...what's wrong Sweet-Pea?" My voice came out slurred and tired. Even though my mind was up, my body apparently wasn't, and I must have appeared exhausted to her.

"I...Im sorry I woke you up so late...I...I just…" She was stuttering over her words a lot, which is something she virtually never does, so at the sound of that I decided enough was enough and hoisted her into my bed with one arm. She was a little thing, maybe 80 pounds, so picking her up was definitely not an issue. It also helps that I've put both of us on a workout regiment. She didn't know what to make of it at first, but after she had been doing it for a while, the results apparently became evident to her because I caught her flexing in the mirror one night before bed. The look of embarrassed horror on her face was so amazing I wish I had a camera to take a picture.

Once I had her safely and snugly secured in my grip, I quickly threw the covers back over us as it had been getting colder with the turn of seasons. Winter is coming quicker every day and we've taken many steps to make sure we get through it: Plenty of blankets, medical supplies, and clothes. I managed to get Clem a nice gray sweatsuit, seeing as her young frame won't be able to produce very much body heat on its own. I guess not many people were really thinking of the months to come and if they would need a sweatsuit fitted for a 9 year old little girl. Hell, id imagine most little girls out there aren't even alive anymore…

No, there's no need to think about that. Their suffering is over now.

I told Clem that I wanted her to start wearing the new outfit instead of her dress, and predictably she got a little upset. She's quite the girly girl, as I had found out in one of our many bonding sessions. Apparently her life only consisted of an interchangeable routine of homework, coloring, playing with dolls, and watching YouTube, which was apparently some sort of video website online. I didn't happen to know anything about it, seeing as I'm a bit out of touch with the internet in the modern world, so she had to explain it to me. She stated that she really likes to wear dresses and had about 25 different ones in her closet back at her house. I wasn't surprised, but I began to wonder what she _would_ look like in a different outfit. Say, a blue dress instead of a yellow one. One with a pattern, etc. you see, I had only ever seen her in that dress, so the thought was interesting. My interest was sated after she was convinced to change out of her old dress and into the sweatsuit. She came out of our bathroom with a sullen look while handing me her old clothes. I told her she looked good in it but I don't think my words did much. I went off to wash and store her dress for Spring as she went back outside and kept playing with Duck, albeit looking a tad embarrassed at suddenly looking so different.

If that's the price we need to pay for survival, then so be it.

I want my little girl to be warm.

Anyways, let's get back to the present, shall we? I peered down at her face to demonstrate that I'd like to hear what the issue is. She looked back up at me and with a scared look in her golden eyes as she began to go into detail about a nightmare in which she was "saved for last" by the St. Johns and subjected to torture before they began to tear her apart and eat her. Graphic, I know. What's worse is that apparently these have been episodic nightmares for her. She told me about similar nightmares she's been having over the past few weeks, and in each one she is forced to watch someone else she loves be killed and eaten by the family. Apparently the last person she had to watch go was...me.

Suddenly I understand why she's been acting out this past week. She had been a little unresponsive since the start of the week, and just a few days back, she got into a fight with Duck about a drawing that he apparently stole and hid, which is already a surprise on its own merit seeing as she isn't usually the one who engages the fight. What came as an even bigger surprise however was the fact that once I got there, I saw that she was completely red in the face. I took her away from the scene, just as Duck's parents did with him, and tried to ask her what exactly happened. She told me about how she had a special picture that she was drawing ( of her and I in a field together, which I later figured out was for me.) and swore that Duck stole it as she couldn't seem to find it that morning. I suggested that maybe she had just lost it, and in that moment, she seemed to get even madder.

"No! I'm not that stupid! I didn't lose it!"

"Sweet-pea, i'm not sayin' your stupid. Everyone loses things-"

"He Stole it! He _stole _it from me! I want it back! Tell him to give me my picture back!"

"Sweet-pea we don't even know if-"

"I _KNOW_ he did it! He's always so mean to me! I hate it!"

"Please Clem, quiet dow-"

"I don't want to! I want it back! I need it back! I...I can't…I _have _to..."

And suddenly she just started to...cry.

Anyone who knows Clem will tell you that she has one hell of a poker face. For the longest time she held so many emotions in. Even when she was on the other end of a rifle with a handful of her hair in a cannibal's grip, she didn't cry. Now, suddenly she breaks down over a simple argument within the safe confines of our home.

I wasn't even sure what to do if I'm being honest. I was so jarred by seeing her suddenly break-down crying that I sort of just...sat there for a moment, not doing anything. This was the first time I had seen this. Tears rushing down her cheeks as she tried to stifle and hold down her sobs in front of me. Its gets hard to remember that she is only a child at the end of the day. Her bravery is astounding for someone so young. Hell, I've even cried a few times by now, once...even in front of her. Thoughts of my ex had surfaced, not to mention this was in the midst of our famine so I was practically overflowing with anxiety. I know it isn't very parental of me, displaying my emotions so openly to the person I'm trying to keep from worrying, but she just came over and hugged me, looking up at me with a smile and asking me what was wrong. She didn't start crying, or leave because she was uncomfortable. She simply comforted me in my time of need.

So, of course, I did the same for her.

I leaned down and gently picked her up, setting her down in my lap and running my hand through her hair, uttering things like "It'll be alright" and "We'll find it baby, don't worry."

I think I was able to calm her down mostly after about 30 minutes. She seemed to be falling asleep in my grip after her crying fit, which I couldn't blame her for. It had been a long day of chores, some of which the kids are able to do around the lot, so after such an argous day of chores and failing to find her special drawing, it came as no surprise that she was so miserable and exhausted. I slowly got up and began ascending the nearby staircase, looping around to our room and opening it with a spare hand as I readjusted her in my grip. Once I laid her down she looked up at me with an exhausted sadness in her eye.

"I'm sorry Lee…I...I'm sorry I yelled at you like that...im just...sad."

And with that she turned and gently drifted off to an uncomfortable sleep.

Of course i stayed with her til she did. I couldn't just leave her alone after that. Really, I didn't want to leave period. I wanted to stay there with her and comfort her more. It'd be a major understatement to say that i was tired. Yet i still had a few more chores to take care of, so i reluctantly got up off the edge of the bed, giving her one last glance before leaving to finish off the day.

After that day she just seemed to get more despondent. Even after she had managed to find her drawing, (which turned out to have not been stolen, surprise surprise), she was still quiet. She seemed to want to just sit in our room and draw, or spend time with me during my chores. Nothing else. She also didn't want to play with duck anymore, even after it was found out that it wasn't him that perpetrated the disappearance of her picture. She just glanced down and muttered that she wanted to go to bed.

Of course at this point I was worried, but I had no clue what I could do. She honestly seemed...depressed after her freak out. Only answering to me, Never giving any indication she hears anyone else, Being completely withdrawn and saddened.

And...it made _me_ sad to see her like that.

So with the revelation that she's been having these nightmares, It all made sense to me. All of her mental faculties have been completely fucked with because of what those psychopaths did to us. Did to her.

"Baby...listen to me...those men? They're dead. Gone. They can _never _hurt _anyone_ again, do you understand me? You saw me take care of them yourself, and I'm sorry that you saw that, but that means that you know as well as I do that they will _never _come back."

"..."

She just stayed silent. Leaning into me as I kept comforting her. Reassuring her and trying to get her to smile with small talk. Nothing seemed to work, and I honestly became scared at her despondency. Never before had I felt like I needed to walk on eggshells around her, taking careful measures not to say the wrong thing. Only when she looked up at me and I could see the pain reflected in her eyes. Communicating thousands of words between us through nothing more than understanding. She leaned in closer and a few minutes later she had buried her face into my chest and began to cry for the second time in front of me. This time though, it felt...different. Like, she was venting out everything to me through her tears. Her emotions had been brought on before by anger and confusion. Which in turn led to tears not for her mind, but rather as nothing more than a physical reaction to all the stress. This time, her cries sounded more honest. Less choked back and more like she wanted me to hear what sort of pain she was truly in. The sudden disappearance of her parents, the walkers, the chaos, the heartbreak and the fear of the future. She wanted me to know. She wanted me to know how she felt, and I did too. So she simply sobbed in my arms as we laid there, with me allowing her to make any sort of a mess she wanted on my shirt without a care in the world.

When we awoke, she was happy to realize that no nightmares had plagued her that night.

Perhaps this is just what she needs. A shoulder to cry on.


End file.
